


to the wolves we go

by Olympus



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adrestian Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate universe - Mafia, Blood, Claude is the leader of the cartel, Drug Use, Faerghus Mafia, Leicester Cartel, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Claude von Riegan, Serial Killer Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Serial Killers, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Torture, Violence, bc im tired of people saying he's clever and then making him meh, this guy should not be fucked with, this probably won't be THAT long but idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-21 02:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21292079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olympus/pseuds/Olympus
Summary: Dimitri Blaiddyd is the sole heir to the Faerghus Mafia--he is no stranger to death. He saw his own father bleed to out on the ground, his best friend's brother give his life so he may live. But none of this prepared him for what it'd be like to end someone's life with his bare hands.It's only after that he realizes that he likes it, that he would do it again. This is when the true Boar Prince appears.However, Claude von Riegan has taken notice of the new serial killer threatening his regime and decides it is up to him to find out who it is.-In which the hunter becomes the prey.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. the start

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dreams and Darkness Collide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649331) by [Epic Solemnity (Dark_Cyan_Star)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Cyan_Star/pseuds/Epic%20Solemnity). 

> this is extremely inspired by Epic Solemnity's "Dreams and Darkness Collide," as you can see. however, due to the fact it is very hard to merge harry potter and fire emblem, this story has a lot of major differences. no matter, as i'm hoping this will have that very fun and very dark edge that DaDC does. if you're a fan of harry potter i recommend you check that fic out--it is life changing!

Dimitri hadn’t meant to kill the man. It was only when he realized what the criminal must have done that caused him to lose control. In the moment he had felt a rush, a need to complete the action, he needed to feel that sharp snap of bones within his hands, blood rushing out of where they pierced through skin. 

The man’s scream had been muffled by Dimitri crushing his throat. The sound died as soon as he had, and it was rather belated when Dimitri realized what he had done. 

The scene in front of him would not have been out of place in a horror movie; blood slick and covering his hands, the man—no, Dimitri could not call him that, or he would be humanized. 

The criminal lay on the ground in the alley with eyes open towards the heavens. They were glassy, and faintly Dimitri recalled the memory of his father dying, the light leaving his eyes, that clear blue color dulling…

He started hyperventilating. There was panic that spread all throughout his body, his hands shaking and reminding Dimitri that the blood was drying, crusting and uncomfortable. He had been there for a while; they would likely be found soon. But Dimitri didn’t know what to do, really, he had never imagined himself in this situation. 

He did remember the bare basics of what to do with a body—while Lambert Blaiddyd had never purposefully put his son in the line of fire, Dimitri was more than aware of what his father did on the side. Being the heir to a the Faerghus Mafia was its own problem. 

So, with the determination of an animal cornered and desperate to survive, Dimitri gathered himself. He lifted the man, his otherworldly strength for once an asset. His clothes were stained but he knew of a club nearby that his family controlled—he would be safe there.

It was late at night, the city streets lit at random by streetlights that flickered with yellow light. It was the perfect picture of a place you would not want to be caught out alone in. That hadn’t stopped Dimitri, however. Now look at what happened. 

The street was empty, as it usually was. The only sign of life was the rhythmic thumping of music that let Dimitri know he was near the club. 

Stairs led down to a heavy-looking door, neon lights flooding the small and grimy space. Dimitri descended the steps and felt the adrenaline faded, panic setting in. He thanked the lord for the fact that the actual entrance to the club lay farther down the hallway.

With fumbling, bloodied hands, Dimitri managed to unlock a door leading to one of the rooms his father had used often for the gambling events he held. 

The room was empty. Hurriedly, he dumped the body onto the ground, wincing as he heard the lifeless thump. Blood flowed sluggishly out of the wound Dimitri had inflicted on the man, the force from dropping forcing it out. Dimitri wanted to vomit as the smell of… other substances made their way to his nose. 

He glanced back at the body before leaving the room, hoping that someone—Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid, anyone was there to help him. The music he had heard from outside grew louder as Dimitri walked down the hallway. The floor was linoleum, stained from god knows what; the lights were purposefully dim and the walls barren. 

Entering the club was like stepping into an entirely new room. Neon lights matching the outside of the building flooded a stage, surrounded by men and women alike, all of whom wore matching looks of… lust. It was when the music somehow got louder that Dimitri realized what was happening. 

Sylvain, both shirtless and pant-less, appeared from one end of the stage, ginger hair as wild and untamed as ever. He wore heels that would’ve snapped Dimitri’s ankles if he dared even try them on, but the man strutted as if he was born to wear them. 

The pole in the middle of the stage was lit at the top and bottom, a spotlight on Sylvain as he grinned, eying a man in the audience. He winked as he wrapped a leg around the pole. His hand grabbed around the top of the pole, toned muscles in his upper arms tensing. Then he saw Dimitri. 

Sylvain froze, looking up and down Dimitri, and suddenly the heir of Faerghus realized just how much blood there was—all over him, staining dark. 

He neatly put his leg down, much to the dismay of the crowd. He turned, one last look at Dimitri as he left the stage. A man, short and balding, took his place and smiled sheepishly as the people grew louder.

Dimitri didn’t hear what he said, instead turning to look at Sylvain who had appeared from behind the stage, wrapped in a rather fluffy robe. He beckoned the man closer. He couldn’t hear Sylvain, but he knew his friend was probably grumbling. He was shoeless, Dimitri noticed, and he couldn’t blame him.

They managed to sneak out the way Dimitri had come, which wasn’t surprising seeing that most people were focused on the man on the stage who had managed to say all the wrong things. 

Down the hallway, into the room. 

“Goddammit, Dima. How did you manage this?” 

Sylvain’s voice was dampened by the low ceiling. He glared at Dimitri; hands crossed over his barely covered chest. 

“I was jumped and I just… Sylvain, you have to help, seriously, I—” Dimitri’s voice grew desperate and loud quickly before his friend sighed, snapping his fingers to stop him.

“Okay, so… I’m not going to question it. I know about your freaky strength, so this isn’t really a surprise,” he paused to pull his phone out of the pocket of his robe. “I’ll call Annette, she has some experience with this…” He typed something before pausing again. “Actually, no, she’s away with Gilbert… how about—”

“God, just call Felix. He’s the one with the most common sense out of all of us,” Dimitri sighed. He was less shaky now that he wasn’t alone, but the fact remained that he had killed someone. 

(Later that night, Dimitri would realize he didn’t regret it)

Sylvain grinned in the way that allowed him to wrap people around his finger, charming and infectious. “Haha, yeah, good idea… calling him now.” He leveled the phone out and set it to speaker. It rang a couple times before Felix answered. 

“What do you need, idiot?” Felix’s sounded tired, rough, like he had just woken up. 

“Well, um…” Sylvain glanced at Dimitri. “There’s an incident at the club, we need you here ASAP, okay? Please.”

There was a loud, long-suffering sigh. “I swear to god if this is another speedo incident I will not talk to you for a week. I didn’t get the picture out of my mind for weeks, your—” 

“DO NOT CONTINUE YOUR SENTENCE. See you soon, bye!” Sylvain hurriedly hung up and plastered a smile on his face that would have been hilarious if not for the situation that Dimitri currently found himself in. 

Dimitri closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. He turned from Sylvain, opening his eyes again to look down at the body. “You probably should have said that I’m here. Felix is going to see me and get pissed—god, with this happening he will never shut up now.”

Sylvain ignored him in favor of crouching by the body, robe hiking up in a way that forced Dimitri to look elsewhere. 

“You destroyed him dude, Jesus. I can’t even tell if he was cute…” 

“He wasn’t, trust me.” Dimitri didn’t really remember, but he didn’t want to egg Sylvain on. “How are you so chill with this anyways?”

Sylvain stood and stretched. “You’d be surprised at how often something like this happens. The girls come to me with a lot of stuff, they can trust me with anything,” he wrinkled his nose at the smell that plagued the room. “It’s never… as gross as this, though. You totaled him. He’s like that car you had in junior year, remember?”

“Why are you bringing that up now?” But Dimitri did remember. He had rolled his BMW within a week… he couldn’t look Rodrigue in the eye for a month after, he had been so ashamed at destroying the car his father had bought for him. He regretted that night. He’d had a little too much to drink, a little too much pot. If not for Dedue pulling him out of the wreck, there’d have been severe legal issues, not to mention the possibility of being kicked out of Garreg Mach. 

Just one of the many reasons he owed his bodyguard. 

Both Sylvain and Dimitri looked towards the door when there was a slam. Sylvain walked towards the entrance to the room they were in, seeing Felix having just entered. He gestured the other man into the room. 

Felix first saw Dimitri, a glare forming before anything else. “Oh, so the boar is here too. What’s—”

He saw the body. A look of revulsion came across him and he glanced at Sylvain first before amber eyes fell on Dimitri. “I knew this would happen one day with you.”

Dimitri flinched, averting his eyes. 

“You’re lucky that my… father,” he said the word as if it tasted disgusting. “has contacts that can take care of this sort of thing.” He crouched down in a similar manner to how Sylvain had earlier, surveying the damage had done. His eyes lingered on the criminal’s neck. 

“Proving yourself to be an animal again, boar prince.” He stood. “What happened? What’s your excuse?”

Dimitri didn’t bother being angry, instead answering simply. “I was jumped. It was just—I don’t know—instinct.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed, and Dimitri knew what he was thinking. 

Just like an animal.

“Where was your dog? He’s always following at your heels as if he has no other homes.”

Dimitri couldn’t stop himself from bristling, voice sharp. “Do not call him that, I swear to—”

“Or what? You’ll do to me what you did to him? I don’t know how you stop yourself, beast, I can already see the bloodlust in your eyes. It’s happened once now, when’s the next time?”

Sylvain finally stepped in, eyes wide at Felix’s obvious antagonistic actions. 

“Calm the fuck down, Felix. You really shouldn’t refer to Dedue like that. He’s done so much for all of us, never mind the fact that he saved your life during—” He stopped himself, realizing he had said too much. 

Felix stood rigid. “But he couldn’t save everyone, could he Sylvain? His first priority remained the fucking prince right here, as always. I don’t see why he couldn’t just…” 

The man stopped himself for once, which Dimitri thought was a first for him. Felix had a way of just letting exactly what he was thinking be known, which was perhaps one of the reasons Rodrigue had taken Felix on as his protégé instead. Dimitri could tell that Felix wasn’t over it, still, and it had been years.

“Just call who you need to, dude. Let’s get this over with,” Sylvain hesitated with his next words. “This… and that, wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

With one last glare, dirty and angry, Felix tapped a number into his phone, putting it up to his ear. 

He didn’t look at anyone as he spoke into the phone. “Yeah, I have a body. Can you get to the club now?”

___

The night grew old as Dimitri finally entered his apartment. The blood had all dried on his clothes, and he knew nothing would be able to get the stains out. The dark red could be considered beautiful, and with a start Dimitri realized he had been staring at himself in the mirror for a while.

He checked his reflection, feeling (and not sure why) that soon he’d look different. His eyes, still the same blue… Blonde hair, crusted and greasy from lack of care lately. 

Bruises were on his neck, where the man had grabbed first, looking for easy prey. They had come in quickly, dark and prominent against pale skin. Dimitri brushed a hand against one. The pain was one that was an ache, not quite overwhelming but not ignorable. It didn’t fade as he moved his hand back. 

Sighing, Dimitri moved from the hallway mirror into the kitchen, grabbing a glass that held water from some time ago. He poured it out, not bothering to rinse before he filled it again. His eyes searched the apartment, looking into his sitting area as if there was supposed to be someone there.

He wasn’t sure why, but a feeling of emptiness followed him. Felix hadn’t spoken to Dimitri after what he said, making a point to only interact with Sylvain.

Sylvain gave Dimitri a glance that said “sorry, I know he’s a dick,” when they left, which made him feel a bit better he guessed. That didn’t help or change what he felt when Felix said the things he did, especially about Dedue. 

He drank the water quickly (he hoped it would refresh him) before setting the glass down and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

His clothes peeled off of him. The blood had soaked through his shirt and onto his skin, leaving it red and flaky and smelling oh so strongly of iron. The scent was almost suffocating in the way it clung to him, and Dimitri didn’t bother to throw his clothes neatly into the hamper before stepping into the shower. 

The water was hot. This greatly contrasted the colder weather outside, stunning him for a moment before he grew used to it. 

No matter how hard he scrubbed everywhere, the smell of blood refused to leave him… it lingered on his fingertips, bodywash not working. He scrubbed until his skin was raw and pink, not caring that it stung. 

Stepping out of the shower was another chore. The cold air was unpleasant, but it distracted him from his destructive thoughts. 

Later that night, as he lay sleepless in bed, he remembered everything vividly. 

The feeling of the pulse of another person in his hands, so briefly… it was exhilarating, it was beautiful, and when he ended it, that admiration had not faded. There still, underneath all the panic and adrenaline, was some want (need?) to do it again.

Dimitri’s eyes were open, but unseeing in the night. 

Did he want to do it again? The answer that he knew deep down was true was not what he wanted to think of. Rather, he wanted to tell himself that it would never happen again, that he would never in his life feel experience what it was like to kill—murder someone. Whether or not they deserved it didn’t matter. 

Again, deep down, he thought that the man had deserved it. Perhaps not in the way it was carried out—a cry silenced by force. But that was made it all so appealing to Dimitri, if he was being honest.

That force… he let himself go and it felt good in a way that he’d never felt before. He always held back, the one time he hadn’t resulted in the tense and ugly relationship between him and Felix. He would always for fear that happening again. 

Sylvain’s calm, almost nonchalant reaction had surprised Dimitri, but almost pleased him. Maybe there was someone he could confide in what he felt, what he was urged to do, what he wanted—needed to do. 

Dimitri’s thoughts spiraled. He could still smell the blood. 

He was convincing himself that it was okay; it was what he had to do. Maybe he could find others that deserved it, as he thought the criminal did. There was no reason he shouldn’t, right? His father had always told him to not be afraid of himself. 

That was the downfall of the Blaiddyd line, Lambert said. Embracing their strength was what made them truly strong. That was what made Dimitri the heir, not his cousins that lacked the gifts even though they had a closer connection to the Faerghus Mafia. 

It was only an hour before dawn that Dimitri convinced himself to commit another murder.


	2. the second murder

Though the clothes he had worn during the attack were thrown out, the scent of blood still followed Dimitri. He couldn’t escape it—always there, metallic and so, so strong. He didn’t know what to do to get rid of it, so his only option was to escape his apartment and hope it would fade. 

That was how he ended up at a small café with Ashe. He had called early that morning, and even though Dimitri was bone-tired from the events that occurred before, he was going to pretend that all is fine. 

Though, apparently it was obvious something was up. 

“Are you okay? You look—tired.” Ashe’s eyes lingered on the bruises littering Dimitri’s neck, which he had forgotten were even there. 

Dimitri attempted a smile, but it fell soon. He sighed. “Something happened last night that..” he reached up and touched the bruises, Ashe following his movements. “I haven’t had a good week.”

The other man nodded, looking off. “I don’t bring good news, and I’m sorry about this… I hope what happened to you is unconnected to what I’m going to tell you.”

“What?” Tension rose in Dimitri. 

Ashe met Dimitri’s eyes and sighed, “The Adrestians has been making preparations to move on us and Leicester. My sources told me that Edelgard is planning something like an all-out war.”

Dimitri cursed and ran a hand through his hair, soft because he had actually washed it last night. He took a breath. “I don’t know why she’s doing this now. Leicester has that new, mysterious leader of theirs… he’s supposed to be powerful. Does she know something we don’t?”

“I don’t know,” Ashe shrugged, sipping the coffee he bought earlier. “It could be because there is some imbalance in Leicester right now, with the vacuum of power suddenly being filled. You know Lorenz isn’t happy about that.”

Dimitri didn’t answer. The Faerghus family had strong connections to Leicester, stemming from the fact that the cartel controlled the supply of weapons and drugs into the city. Lambert was very personable, the reason why Leicester and Faerghus had stayed on such good terms. The sudden decline of Leicester’s leader’s health had meant misfortune for Faerghus—until this new leader stepped up.

Rodrigue was in charge of Faerghus until Dimitri was old enough, and that was coming up fast. Soon, Dimitri would be expected to take his place… the thought of that terrified him. He didn’t know how his father had managed it, really. 

There was a meeting coming up 3 months from now, a set date in which Rodrigue and Dimitri were supposed to renegotiate a contract with Leicester. Edelgard stirring up trouble spelled disaster. 

“Can you keep a close eye on the Adrestians? I mean, closer than normal. We don’t have the resources right now to keep our… outlying areas under control.”

And that was the truth. It was a miracle the southwest end of their territory hadn’t already been marked up and taken by Adrestia, though the frequent shootouts were probably scaring the Mob away. That area had always been rough, rougher than most parts of the Faerghus territory, at least. There was no end of people trying to show up the Blaiddyd’s claim to the leadership. That had quieted down since the incident with Dedue, Felix, and Sylvain. 

That was a whole other story—the first time any of them had killed, albeit from far away and with handguns. What happened last night was different, but it triggered the same response in Dimitri that Felix hated him for.

“Of course,” Ashe said, dragging Dimitri to the present. “I can contact Caspar or Lindhardt about this, though…” he paused. “They’ve been iffy about giving me information for a while. They know I’m no longer quite, ehem… neutral.”

Dimitri nodded. “We’ll have to find someone else to gather intel from. Do you have any idea of who’s open to us?”

“The only person who might even consider are some of the newer recruits… but I have heard of a singer turned hitwoman who might be willing, given a good price,” Ashe state, voice a little hushed. He brushed his hair behind his ear. 

The heir to Faerghus tapped his fingers absentmindedly on the table. “Get her info, contact me when you have it. What about Ferdinand?”

Ashe shook his head. “He’s involved with Hubert now; I can’t even get ahold of him.”

“Damnit.” Before Edelgard took control, Ferdinand’s family was the closest to becoming the leading family of Adrestia’s mob. He still held a sense of bitterness about it, which Dimitri took advantage of. With that option closed, they were in bad shape. 

But Ferdinand… his father Dimitri remembered. A man that in no way could be redeemed. He filed that away later, however, focusing on Ashe. 

“Do you think it’s possible to make a move against them first?” He asked mainly to get his thoughts out there, this was something he would have to talk about one on one with Rodrigue, perhaps Felix as well if he was feeling amiable. That rarely happened though. 

Ashe didn’t answer. Instead, he sipped his coffee with a faraway look in his clear green eyes. 

“How are your siblings?”

He startled, but looked at Dimitri with a smile. “My sister started high school recently, she’s already complaining about drama, can you believe?”

“I can’t blame her honestly; I remember exactly what it was like…” They began an honest conversation, but Dimitri couldn’t get Ferdinand’s father out of his head. 

-

It was a new experience for Dimitri, staying in the shadows and attempting to be unseen. He was the lion of the Faerghus Mafia, usually, shining and bright.

He crouched on the edge of a building, watching his target. Blue eyes narrowed as the man leaned against a wall across from where Dimitri was. The man pulled out a cigarette, beady eyes darting around the area as if he was aware of being watched. 

Dimitri knew more about this man, Duke Aegir he was called, than most others. He was responsible for a number of sex trafficking rings around Fódlan, most of which were funded by himself and attended by many of his closest friends. However, they had been disappearing lately, which Dimitri knew to be Edelgard culling out the weak ends of her crime empire. 

Duke Aegir obviously has some use if he is still alive. But Dimitri thought that what he had done was something unforgiveable, something that he planned on delivering vengeance for. 

Mercedes and her brother (who was now known as Jeritza instead of Emile) had been victims of the despicable man. They suffered at his hands, passed around like toys against their will. It made Dimitri sick. If he focused, instead of the iron smell that still hung around, he could sense the rot. 

That was why he was still, watching. There could be no chance that he’d be caught, Dimitri knew, or this brief stint of justice was over. He was deep in Adrestian territory and would be killed if caught. 

The area he was in, east of central Fódlan, was largely Adrestian territory. Telltale red graffiti marked empty walls with the eagle crest Edelgard was known for. There were only few cameras in this area, which Dimitri only had knowledge of because of Ashe’s own network. He was lucky that Ashe didn’t question why Dimitri needed to know and just provided without questions asked. Though their meeting had been a few days ago, Dimitri needed time to map out when his target would be alone and at the most vulnerable. 

Duke Aegir dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his shoe, the smoldering grey remains staining concrete. He put his hands in his cloak, warming himself up in the cold night. 

Dimitri was lucky to be blessed with the Blaiddyd’s strength; he was able to perform miraculous acrobatics even with his bulk. He dropped down, graceful in a way that mimicked the lions the Faerghus Mafia was so known for. 

His target startled, immediately off balance and falling, hands still in pockets and unable to brace him. The man fumbled before Dimitri, hands shaking as he pulled out a gun. It was rather small, but he was undeterred. 

In a smooth motion, Dimitri grabbed it from him before Aegir even managed to get a good handle on it, bending the barrel to an unusable state. The balding man gaped, pressing himself against the wall, still on the ground. His eyes were wide and fearful. Some part of Dimitri recoiled at this, at what he was doing, but the other part of himself was more driven—that fear is what he needed to see, what he was allowed the first time. 

He scrambled up, managing to stand. Dimitri noticed he was rather short. “Who—what—god, what do you want?” Aegir said, voice reedy and so, so scared. 

Dimitri was glad his face was mostly covered, for the grin twisting his face right now was rarely seen. He enjoyed this much more than he thought he would, losing himself in the lust to finish the job.

Without words, Dimitri drew his dagger. This particular one was serrated, gifted to him from Cornelia years ago along with a halfhearted warning not to hurt himself. He twirled it his fingers, relishing the moment as fear totally took over Aegir’s facial features, twisting them in in horror. 

The dagger flashed in and our quickly, blood following in a stream. Dimitri moved away and there was a moment where Aegir stumbled forward, fumbling once again to do something. He moved to cover the wound, looking down at his bloodied torso; not fully believing what had happened. He fell against the wall.

Dimitri moved closer, watching in fascination as blood flowed and Duke Aegir’s face grew pale. He hesitated for a second, that same part of himself that doubted what he was doing forcing himself to rethink, consider what actions he was taking. As he has always been good at doing, he ignored it, only thinking of the rush he would get when the job was done. He craved to feel that brief moment of total control—power over life and death.

He reached forwards, tilting Aegir’s head up, forcing the man to look him in the eyes as his other hand wrapped around his neck and—

Crushed.

There—the swift choking, trachea collapsed, larynx destroyed, oxygen unable to enter or leave. 

Duke Aegir was unconscious, likely dead in 5 or less minutes as he bleeds out. There was a moment of rage as Dimitri remembered what this man had done to Mercedes, and suddenly he knew how to make this murder a symbol.

He let the man slump against the wall and to the ground. Crouching, Dimitri unbuttoned the man’s blood-soaked shirt. The wound the dagger made was in the stomach area. It still leaked blood, though, oddly, the smell didn’t bother him at the moment. He readied his knife above the pale skin of the man’s chest, angled to carve the first word. 

-

Dimitri sipped tea in Sylvain’s apartment. He had been invited over last night, a day after his second kill, with the excuse of “yeah I needed someone over so I have a reason to not go to the club.” They lounged around and complained about Felix, smoked a joint or two, and played video games until their eyes hurt. 

So, all in all, a very productive night. 

Sylvain cleared his throat and then started to say something—but stopped. He smiled sheepishly at Dimitri. 

“Ihaveathinggoingonwithfelixbuthedoesntwantyoutoknowsolike—”

“Holy shit dude, slow down.” Dmitri had no idea how his friend had spoken that fast. 

Sylvain took a deep breath before speaking. “I have a thing with—um—Felix, and he said he didn’t want labels, but I like labels, so, like… we’re dating I guess?” He said, still all in one breath. 

“Honestly, I could see it coming.” And that was the truth. Even when they were kids, Sylvain was always the one who could comfort Felix, the one who knew exactly what to do. Though at certain times it hurt to see his best friends be so… together, Dimitri felt like the two were destined for each other. He offered Sylvain a smile, ignoring the gnawing thought at the edge of his mind.

Did he deserve someone like that?

His friend’s shoulders slumped, tension that Dimitri hadn’t noticed in the first place gone, replaced with the sort of relaxation that he only saw when they were truly alone. Sylvain had a tendency to… act. Perhaps that was how he gained his position at the club; he needed somewhere to go where an act was required, somewhere he was expected to be someone else. That refuge was sought out often, yet people usually never found it. 

“I hope you two… work out,” he stated. 

Sylvain nodded, looking at the ceiling. He was in an armchair that had seen better days, long legs tucked up underneath him in a generally uncomfortable position that he didn’t seem to mind. The TV he turned on earlier was switched to the news channel.

The two had nothing in particular to say to each other, as it happened when you’d spent an entire night together, so they both turned their attention to the news. 

None of the three main crime families controlled the infrastructure of Fódlan, the city they resided in. Years ago it had been mutually decided (or, at least Rodrigue told Dimitri it was mutual) that the city was run internally by the Church. In return for leaving the Church alone, it allowed the families to claim parts of the city. It was an odd place, for sure, but there was something about the place that drew people. 

Now, however, the news had something interesting to share. 

“Duke Aegir, a man believed to be part of the Adrestian crime family, was found murdered early last morning. It is undecided if there were gang-related motives behind the murder.”

If Sylvain was watching, he would have seen Dimitri stiffen before forcing himself to relax. But he didn’t, instead letting out a low whistle. “Damn, that’s Ferdie’s dad, right?”

It was. “Yeah…” He didn’t let himself say anymore. His eyes were still glued to the screen. 

“Information has just come out that the body had been modified by the killer. There are reports of sex trafficking rings dissolving, victims coming out about their experiences now that the criminal is gone.” The screen panned onto a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, but with brown eyes that seemed twice her age. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke. 

“I was taken from my home by men who refused to tell me their names,” she said, eyes closing and opening as if she was trying to keep herself from reliving the memories. “Aegir was the one I remember. He paid them for me, and I will never forget what that did to me—he deserved every bit of the pain—he is a beast.”

Dimitri’s lips curled in the feral smile that was becoming more and more comfortable. That word, beast, was what he carved into Aegir’s chest, bloody and all the more meaningful. Sylvain chose that moment to turn the TV off. 

“Well—that’s depressing! Let’s go get shitfaced!” He stood and stretched, looking expectantly at Dimitri. 

He blinked and stood as well, the abruptly changed atmosphere in the room stunning him for a bit. He shrugged at Sylvain. 

“As long Felix doesn’t show up and antagonize me,” he said, weakly joking. 

Sylvain laughed louder than he should have, but that was normal for him. He winked at Dimitri. “Yeah, I make no promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that certain things might not make sense, but... I generally just want to have fun writing this. anyways,, please, tell me what you enjoyed (or didn't enjoy)! I'd love to see some comments.


End file.
